Death May Disagree

Chapter 17

Rosaline jumps towards the sidewalk and the ball tumbles out of her hands. Within seconds, Olivia, Angelica, and Angelica's boyfriend are surrounding Rosaline as she cradles a scraped knee. In a frenzy, I wrap my sister tightly in a hug.

"I'm okay! I'm okay!" she says, over me invoking God's name. I don't realize I'm screaming until the ambulance passes and it's quiet again.

"Rosaline, you almost died!" says Olivia. "You almost died, Rosaline!"

"God, that looks painful. Is that painful," asks Angelica, referring to the scraped knee.

"We should go home," I say and I carry Rosaline to my car.

Mom opens the door when she hears me struggling to put the key in the lock while holding Rosaline steady. She looks at me with stern eyes, and then at Rosaline with frightened eyes.

"Rosaline, what happened?" says Mom.

"I scraped my knee on the sidewalk," Rosaline answers. I told her not to mention the part where she almost got run over.

"Oh no. Okay, let's get that wound cleaned up," she says, eyeing Olivia, Angelica, and Angelica's boyfriend in my backseat suspiciously.

Shortly after I drop my passengers back to their houses, my family and I sit down together for dinner. Conversation and silence comes out in intervals, interchanging between the two for a while until it's just all silence. The tension between Mom and I is palpable, but I keep my eyes down so as not to acknowledge it. First, Mom asks me about the siren she heard over the phone and I tell her it was an ambulance for someone else. Then, she says I should have been watching Rosaline more carefully and I rejoin with the fact that I was distracted by her phone call. Mom's mouth twitches. I know she wants to continue the discussion about Mara, but she wouldn't dare be anything less than pleasant in front of Rosaline.

Mom and Rosaline place their dishes in the sink for me to wash, and I'm glad to be alone after the emotional charge of two hours ago. If Rosaline had been run over, everything would have become worse. Mom would be devastated, which means she could spend a year or so coping as horribly as she did over Dad's death, and I'd be traumatized with witnessing the incident. A couple of people at the park said they heard me scream, but the scene happened so fast, they only saw Rosaline when she was safely on the sidewalk. They said it was a good thing I was there.

When I'm done with the dishes, I pass Mom and Rosaline in the living room, where they've decided on the movie to watch tonight. It's a kid's movie, so I excuse myself to go into Rosaline's room to pick apart any beginnings of the god complex stirring within me. I can't let Ailing be right about human beings, or about me. All that matters is that my sister is safe. Rosaline's toothy grin tells me she's past the ambulance affair, her knee dressed and bandaged up.

Suddenly, Mom takes my hand in hers. She does so gently, but I stiffen at the touch. She says I should consider my safety as important as I do with Rosaline's, because that's how important she considers both of ours. "We're family," she says solemnly. I nod, so that she can let go of my hand.

I run to Rosaline's room and bring a pillow to my mouth, screaming out my remaining frustrations with Mom before my drive back to UCP. I'm enraged by her tactics to get me to let her have her way. When my voice becomes hoarse, I punch the pillow. In my head, I'm not the greatest daughter, but I've done nothing to invite notoriety. I'm tired of Mom acting like I have behaviors that need subduing and that it's her job to subdue them.

"Been awhile, crocodile," comes Doom's voice from behind me.

I stop punching the pillow and turn around and see Doom leaning against the closed door. I smile. My face is dry and I want Doom to see that I haven't shed a tear. "Hey, Doom."